Safehouse Riot
by Starr Bryte
Summary: As every good Gundam Pilot knows, you can't judge a book by it's cover and you can't judge a Safehouse by the flowerboxes in the windows


**Dear Reader,**

**I was in a rut. A big deep, can't-see-the-light-of-day rut. Then I went to College Composition I today. We were in our Narrative unit. We were given four topics, four settings, four characters and four events. Then we were set loose. The first situation I had was "A teenage runaway/The porch of an old farm house/After a fight/ Someone's pride has been injured" and I immediately thought "Duo Maxwell/ At a safe house/ After a minor altercation with a farm animal/ Pissed because he's the one who ended up with the bruises" And that led me to think up this little gem. I call it "Safehouse Riot" and it's going to simply be some minor drabbles to clear my head. Maybe they'll end up with a better Review critique than my "Facination" thing.**

**I do not own Gundam Wing**

**I don't own my teacher or my college. Not that I would want to.  
**

**USC ROCKS! MUahahahahahahahaHAAAAAAA.**

**Thank you to Lone-chan for e-mailing me and helping me out of my rut. Mimosa Vandetta... I hope to have your sketch done by Monday. I Hope. Really. **

**Stay safe  
Stay healthy****  
Sincerely,**

**Starr Bryte**

**Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Duo Maxwell sat on the porch swing of the Old Farmhouse that was to be his Safehouse until someone could make a decision and gave him something to do. The Old Farmhouse was nothing to write back to base about. It was Old. And it was a Farmhouse. It was a simple frame thing with a barn, a huge back yard and more fields than were necessary. Painted white with flower baskets in the windows, with chickens clucking in the front yard and rabbits in the back trying to get into the vegetable garden, prowling mousers and the Pasteur with the cower herd. It was a nice place, peaceful. Quiet. Very quiet. Too quiet. Boring. But that was the farthest thing from his mind as he glared across the yard, his indigo-violet eyes sullen. He would have put his chin in his hands, but the spit and swollen lip made it rather difficult, the same fact making his scowl less than impressive. A warm chuckle made him turn and aim his glare elsewhere.

"That expression was more impressive the first ten times you used it, love." The middle-aged Safehouse owner said pleasantly, plunking an ice pack onto his knee. He grumbled a thank you, flipping his braid over his shoulder in annoyance.

"Now, what's with the glower? Do you want it to raid?" She asked.

"I think I was better off with the other guys fighting our way out of OZ bases." He muttered waspishly, "At least they fight fair!" Again with the motherly chuckle that half set his nerves on edge simply because he had seen that woman machine gun her way through an entire rank of OZ guards only a few months ago. Someone with that chilling of a battle cry did not match the 'grandmother' persona sitting in the rocking chair next to him. He absently pushed himself on the swing with his left foot, his other leg drawn up to his chest. He winced as he put the ice pack against his bruised face.

"You're just mad because you were beaten by a girl." She teased.

"So would you!" Duo protested, "That is no ordinary girl!" She watched him try to pout without wincing before patting his stained knee.

"Still, I think, in this case, you should be the gentleman and make peace with the Lady." She said. He turned his head to stare at her in disbelief.

"I'm no gentleman… And THAT is no lady!" This time his answer wasn't a chuckle, but an out right laugh. More like the woman soldier that had been put into the retirement of 'Safehouse Keeper' after one close call too many.

"What is so funny?" He demanded petulantly.

"Nothing, nothing." She soothed, wiping laugh tears from her eyes and patting his arm, which was still sore from the fight, "Still, I think you should apologize. Who knows? You just might become the best of friends…" He sighed in defeat.

"All right, all right…" He grumbled, placing the sweating ice pack on the swing, next to her, "But you're not doing my pride any favors!"

"Of course not!" She teased, "I'm just here to make your life miserable while the rest of them have all the fun blowing up OZ installations, remember?"

"Some guys get all the luck…" Duo mumbled in agreement, "Fine… Might as well get this over with now…" Standing up he slouched away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his denim jacket, loose hair from his braid being tugged about by the breeze. A storm was coming in and already the sky was that deep blue that spoke of thunder and rain and wind. Duo loved thunderstorms, but he was too preoccupied to take much notice as he made his way down to the barn. Once inside he blinked owlishly to let his eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He adversary stood in the far corner, one dark brown eye staring at him expectantly, but other wise pretending to ignore him.

"Uhm…. Hi there." He began.

No answer.

"I guess you're wondering why I had the gall to come back…"

No answer.

"God, I feel stupid."

A snort of agreement, but otherwise silence.

"Well… I just came back to say I'm sorry. It was my fault and I shouldn't have surprised you. Y'know?"

No answer. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I think I learned my lesson and… I think we should start over…" He said. She stared at him for a moment before turning to face him. Clearing his throat he walked up to her and held out his hand.

"Hello. I'm Duo Maxwell… You must be Lady. Pleased to meetcha."

Lady, the prized Holstein of the farm, turned her head to smell his hand and gave a soft moo. Duo grinned.


End file.
